History of Us: Hot Chocolate and Winter Nights
by ajremix
Summary: History of Us Arc, post Mega Man 5. A moment of quiet, reflection, solitude, a time of contrast and trying to find simple comfort. Rock and Roll


Hot Chocolate and Winter Mornings  
By: Lady Virgo  
  
  
  
  
The snow came down lightly in the faded street lamp. It fell like powered dew in the dark of the early morning dusk. Unbroken, the night was a glass of silence, balanced precariously on the edge of anxiety and restlessness. Outside the wait grew thick, but inside the lab was near the picture of ideal home life.  
  
Rock swung his legs idly in his chair, watching the snow glide with a sightless stare, deep in thought without being aware of what was going on through his mind. Behind him, an artificial fire crackled silently in the open pit that sat in the middle of the main room, its smokeless tendrils drifting into the filter humming above it.  
  
He sighed, much like a small child, wide eyes restless but unwilling to get the energy to do more than what he was already doing. Much like a child indeed.  
  
He took another deep breath, this time a faint, fresh sent wafting into his sensors. Creamy, rich, hot and smooth. Rock turned to his right, a tray sitting by his limp elbow. A small was piled with a couple freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter crackers. In a large java cup, milk chocolate in color, hot cocoa swished softly, the top swirled with the creamy white of partially melted sugar and marshmallows. Out of the corner of blue eyes, he saw he end of a long ponytail moving back into the kitchen.  
  
For a moment, Rock did nothing but sit there. But eventually, the lowered energy pack moved him to eat, wanting him to replenish his energy cells.  
  
He hadn't even realized that his attention had turned away from the food and back to the window until, as he reached for another cookie or cracker, his fingers scraped against the soft porcelain of the plate.  
  
"Was it that good?" A teasing voice startled him from behind. "Or so bad you can't even bother to taste it?"  
  
Rock turned to look at his sister in confusion. She just grinned at him and stuck out the tip of her pink, metallic tongue. Bodily, she bumped him over to the edge of the seat to make room for herself.  
  
"So? What're you thinking about?" Roll asked.  
  
"Hm?" He turned back to the window. "Oh... nothing."  
  
"Oh... really?" Came the smart reply.  
  
"Don't know."  
  
She looked at him flatly, but didn't bother to say anything.  
  
"It doesn't taste as good cold." She pointed out.  
  
Rock looked at the tray, the hot chocolate covered by a thing film of melted marshmallows. "Oh."  
  
"Yes."  
  
He picked it up in the small hands, just looking at it, then peered over to his sister. She, too, had a large cup in her hands, but the contrast of hers to his was a different as they were, as everything about them were. Her thickly lashed eyes slide over to him, the cinnamon sticks she used to swirl her double dark hot chocolate found its way to her mouth. "Well?"  
  
Rock blinked and looked back down at the cup. Without a word, without a sound, without really even tasting it, he put the warm cup to his lips and drank, not even wincing when the liquid heated the inside of his mouth to an above comfortable degree.  
  
He could hear her frown beyond sight. "What, no thank you for my consideration and hard work? How rude."  
  
Rock shook his head, mumbling a quiet apology and thanks, then went staring right back out the window.  
  
Roll shifted, sighing. Times like this she felt as much older than Rock as she looked. "I see..." she drawled. He was in one of those moods again. She really wish she had a better handle on how to deal with it.  
  
So, since she didn't much enjoy being in a sullen, heavy mood- something she would never understand humans and Rock being in during the quiet midnight-early morning hours -Roll decided to deal with it in her normal, cheeky, enthusiastic manner. So she got up off the chair, spun it and Rock around, tilting him back against the window and knelt down so her elbows- hands cupping her chin -rested on little Rock's knees.  
  
"Ne, ne, Rock." She said in a childish voice, accentuating the last syllable of his name. "How about helping me make breakfast this morning? We can make those English Muffin egg and sausage sandwiches Light-tosan likes so much."  
  
Rock blinked out of his quiet stupor. "Isn't it a bit early for that? It's only 0240 right now."  
  
She snorted. "We have to take the sausage out of defrost, first, silly. Besides, if you're going to help me with breakfast we have to figure out what else to make. Muffin sandwiches won't due by themselves." She sat back, thinking. But she already knew Rock would jump into this. As much as he didn't need to eat nor was he the most graceful in the kitchen, he did love to help, especially when it came to helping make something.  
  
"We still have those cinnamon bagels and the cream cheese he likes so much." She continued. "I can cut up some strawberries and bananas for yogurt."  
  
"Can we makes some muffins?" Rock asked. "Maybe some pancakes or waffles?"  
  
Roll grinned, knowing those were some of his favorites. "Like maybe chocolate-chocolate chip muffins and blueberry waffles with lots of butter and blackberry jam, right?"  
  
He couldn't help but to blush and grin. "Yeah."  
  
She giggled. "Right. I'll make some fresh orange juice, too. Or would you rather have some chocolate milk, instead?"  
  
"Actually, I'd like some more hot cocoa."  
  
That wasn't much of a surprise, but Roll blinked anyway.  
  
"Sure, no problem." She picked up the empty cup. "Did you want some more milk or marshmallows in it?"  
  
"No, it's fine how it is." Rock stood, following his sister into the kitchen. He loved watching her cook and he loved to help out whenever he could.  
  
Just something about creating things for other to enjoy, it really made him feel so much better.  
  
Because he didn't seem like a fighting machine, because he could do better than just destroy.  
  
He felt that he was giving more to people that way than fighting, a feeling he could never seem to grasp enough times to be satisfied.  
  
And personally, Roll like it. She hated the idea of her brother going out to fight, she hated the idea of little him, killing a bunch of ruthless killers, always alone.  
  
But what could she do? She was no fighter, she wasn't fit for battle.  
  
"Behind every great man, there has to be a great woman."  
  
Rock cocked his head to the side, confused. "Huh?"  
  
"Just a saying, silly." She poked her tongue out at him again. "It means that every good person, you, had to be taken care of by an equally- or in this case, better -person, me."  
  
He squirmed, blushing slightly. "You don't /have/ to take care of me."  
  
"And if I didn't, do you what you'd be doing right now?"  
  
"Um... not talking to you?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Stupid. Yes, that, but you'd also still be sitting in front of the window, looking dull and mope. Lord knows what you would've been doing if I weren't here at all."  
  
Rock just grinned. "I'd have a good reason to look dull and mope. If you were here at all, it would be so boring and quiet." He swung his legs and pointedly stared at his empty cup. "And I'd have to get up to get my own cup of hot cocoa."  
  
"Oh, you're so lazy! She cried, smacking his shoulder. "Just for that, I shouldn't let you help me in the kitchen!"  
  
"Aw, don't be like that. That's mean."  
  
"And you're not?" She mock sniffled. "Acting as if I'm only good enough to be a slave or something."  
  
For a moment, Rock's face closed up and Roll internally winced.  
  
She had overheard Blues and Light arguing once when he had stopped by with Rock, beaten and tired, in his arms. They weren't yelling, but with the intensity behind their words, they might as well have been. Several times Blues had called the bioroids 'slaves' and 'mindless servants', blaming Light for it just as much as Wily. At first, eavesdropping on them, Roll had no idea what they were talking about, but as time went on and she though harder on the subject, she was beginning to understand what Blues meant.  
  
Like pieces of a puzzle falling together.  
  
But she didn't know how Rock interlocked with the entire thing.  
  
How could someone so innocent and childlike be sent off to wars? Why wasn't a better one built, or at least he be given a different mindset, one more geared to doing battle?  
  
She even wondered if Rock knew what it was he was fighting for.  
  
"Is there anymore cocoa loft?" He asked, as if nothing had been said before.  
  
"Hm? Oh, yes. I'll heat it up, I think it might've cooled down a bit."  
  
Rock got to his feet. "Here, I'll help start thawing out the sausage and muffins for breakfast."  
  
"Sure."  
  
But then, did it matter so much what purpose one had and if they were even aware? During the times no one else was around to ask questions, when no one was watching, did anyone even care? The sun would rise soon, showing off what should be seen, hiding what shouldn't. Then it really would no longer matter. 


End file.
